"tottenham" poems - Hello Poetry

High on the O2: Red Rossopomodoro, Wagamama, and on the bus shelter, Marc Jacobs, and again higher, Habitat, then Metroline moves past. It's the 113 to Oxford Circus, and the 13 to Victoria: Thrilla Lives On, shouts the slogan, while National Express has All Set For Take-Off. They're gone... It calms empties, nothing much just the red lidless eyes of cars two, three, four dozen pairs hover over the asphalt road. Where... where am I? Ahhh, yeah, in the Oriental Star, the road seen from a table and stool, waiting for food. Where have I hailed from? My lover's womb. No, no NOT THAT! The North Star, yes: A pub on the Finchley Road, Where Tottenham beat Liverpool 4-1 A pyrrhic victory! Over a couple of beers. Warm years, and tears. A sense of place, a home, a nest, Receding in the traffic Of a busy road, Waiting on noodles.

0

Nov 10, 2017

Nov 10, 2017 at 6:15 PM UTC

ashleyq5

All Set for Take-Off

High on the O2: Red Rossopomodoro, Wagamama, and on the bus shelter, Marc Jacobs, and again higher, Habitat, then Metroline moves past. It's the 113 to Oxford Circus, and the 13 to Victoria: Thrilla Lives On, shouts the slogan, while National Express has All Set For Take-Off. They're gone... It calms empties, nothing much just the red lidless eyes of cars two, three, four dozen pairs hover over the asphalt road. Where... where am I? Ahhh, yeah, in the Oriental Star, the road seen from a table and stool, waiting for food. Where have I hailed from? My lover's womb. No, no NOT THAT! The North Star, yes: A pub on the Finchley Road, Where Tottenham beat Liverpool 4-1 A pyrrhic victory! Over a couple of beers. Warm years, and tears. A sense of place, a home, a nest, Receding in the traffic Of a busy road, Waiting on noodles.

44

I am the oxygen running Through the veins of London, I am weaving my way through The crowds of people, Commuters, Tourists, Family, I feel the wind Of the trains Pulsating through the air, Running its fingers through my hair And over my body, There metallic cries cascading through the tunnels, Where will I go? The Northern line to Tottenham Court Road? The Central line to Liverpool Street station? There is only one destination I yearn for, Above the concrete, The tiles and wires, The pipelines and emptiness, I want to be at home With you again.

0

Jan 2, 2014

Jan 2, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC

LJChaplin

On the Tube

I am the oxygen running Through the veins of London, I am weaving my way through The crowds of people, Commuters, Tourists, Family, I feel the wind Of the trains Pulsating through the air, Running its fingers through my hair And over my body, There metallic cries cascading through the tunnels, Where will I go? The Northern line to Tottenham Court Road? The Central line to Liverpool Street station? There is only one destination I yearn for, Above the concrete, The tiles and wires, The pipelines and emptiness, I want to be at home With you again.

22

Tamla Motown, my soccer team Tottenham for so many sweet memories, my old girlfriend Stella ... I know I should have Stella, I know, tigers, brown bears & the lowly centipede, Charlie Chaplin, that old ****** son of a gun, Laurel & Hardy, just because ... Tarkovsky movies ... Toshiro Mifune, anything with custard, apple pie, fresh bread, Indian folks for the way they shake their heads for yes, Indian folks for their god that charming Ganesh, books, Sci-fi movies ... lots of them anyway, children laughing, children playing, & thus playgrounds, serious folks who pay attention, Anarchists ... of course, my old grannie for her attentions, English food when it actually works, trees, birds, bees, old Chinese folks up at dawn to collect cans, & my Facebook friends, take care you all now.

0

Mar 31, 2017

Mar 31, 2017 at 5:30 PM UTC

martin-bailes

God Bless ...

Tamla Motown, my soccer team Tottenham for so many sweet memories, my old girlfriend Stella ... I know I should have Stella, I know, tigers, brown bears & the lowly centipede, Charlie Chaplin, that old ****** son of a gun, Laurel & Hardy, just because ... Tarkovsky movies ... Toshiro Mifune, anything with custard, apple pie, fresh bread, Indian folks for the way they shake their heads for yes, Indian folks for their god that charming Ganesh, books, Sci-fi movies ... lots of them anyway, children laughing, children playing, & thus playgrounds, serious folks who pay attention, Anarchists ... of course, my old grannie for her attentions, English food when it actually works, trees, birds, bees, old Chinese folks up at dawn to collect cans, & my Facebook friends, take care you all now.

35

I started watching football when I was eight At that moment I had everything to hate The next day I went with the squad I played with a poor morale Than as the time passed by People said Ronaldo in Madrid is ***** Than as the Manuel Neur got the fame Messi got him chipped later in the game In June they compared Andre Gomes with James For real? Thats just lame Merle said "Football players are like prostitutes" They said "Giroud comes to show off his beard" Footballers like Yahya dont even drink beer While some footballers go to the club when they hit the big time Tottenham striker said "He cant remember going to a club last time" Bayern Munich bailed out Dortmund with a loan in the past Oil money of PSG on Neymar gave me a flabbergast..

0

Aug 3, 2018

Aug 3, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC

aniq1234

Football

I started watching football when I was eight At that moment I had everything to hate The next day I went with the squad I played with a poor morale Than as the time passed by People said Ronaldo in Madrid is ***** Than as the Manuel Neur got the fame Messi got him chipped later in the game In June they compared Andre Gomes with James For real? Thats just lame Merle said "Football players are like prostitutes" They said "Giroud comes to show off his beard" Footballers like Yahya dont even drink beer While some footballers go to the club when they hit the big time Tottenham striker said "He cant remember going to a club last time" Bayern Munich bailed out Dortmund with a loan in the past Oil money of PSG on Neymar gave me a flabbergast..

17

For a pack of reds She let me take her to bed We took a few puffs of marijuana And she said she's again gonna We emptied a few bottles of Jack Daniels And starved to crave a snack What can I say - I'm a Tottenham guy - A real life South Park I said to her - Now turn and show me that *** So I can play it like a drum.

0

Feb 25, 2014

Feb 25, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC

stanislaw-hhm

I'm a Tottenham Boy

For a pack of reds She let me take her to bed We took a few puffs of marijuana And she said she's again gonna We emptied a few bottles of Jack Daniels And starved to crave a snack What can I say - I'm a Tottenham guy - A real life South Park I said to her - Now turn and show me that *** So I can play it like a drum.

12

There are submarines in Tottenham they're watching every woman, man,and moving slowly underground they make no sound but have no doubt they're watching what you're all about.

0

Jan 27, 2014

Jan 27, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Warfare

There are submarines in Tottenham they're watching every woman, man,and moving slowly underground they make no sound but have no doubt they're watching what you're all about.

5

I I was born in the streets The streets My home town Tottenham The streets raised me. It knew me by my name, It taught me the life game. How to score a goal With a little ambition And more action, Just keep it on a down low. It taught me the highs and lows Trust, Hope And Education. I may not have the best vocabulary But when I speak , everyone focuses. Tottenham taught me how to face my fears. The streets gave me links Introduce me to spoken word, poetry and love. The community was my family No bonding has ever felt so strong. The streets spoke to me, reminding me "wherever you go, don't forget where your from". The streets spoke my language, it understood me and taught me humbleness is everything. Tottenham is my home sweet home.

0

Jul 28, 2014

Jul 28, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC

lucia-domingos-fula

Home

I I was born in the streets The streets My home town Tottenham The streets raised me. It knew me by my name, It taught me the life game. How to score a goal With a little ambition And more action, Just keep it on a down low. It taught me the highs and lows Trust, Hope And Education. I may not have the best vocabulary But when I speak , everyone focuses. Tottenham taught me how to face my fears. The streets gave me links Introduce me to spoken word, poetry and love. The community was my family No bonding has ever felt so strong. The streets spoke to me, reminding me "wherever you go, don't forget where your from". The streets spoke my language, it understood me and taught me humbleness is everything. Tottenham is my home sweet home.

26

This lobotomy turns out to be not such a shock to me after all, I fall and I rise, sleep in my eyes, but the days work is done even though a new day has begun. This lobotomy, this excuse for me is going home — travelling to Stratford, London Borough of Newham from Tottenham Court Road London Underground Station.

0

May 21, 2015

May 21, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Facebook checkin

This lobotomy turns out to be not such a shock to me after all, I fall and I rise, sleep in my eyes, but the days work is done even though a new day has begun. This lobotomy, this excuse for me is going home — travelling to Stratford, London Borough of Newham from Tottenham Court Road London Underground Station.

1

me and collie took the town by storm, black man and white man drinking buddies? what a rarity. uncle didn’t join us the old ghanian, we had drunk sentimentalities, of course, but when russel the schizoid rudolf came up and told us the tottenham man city score i went into the alley and almost ****** myself prior shouting h and a into an ivory rattle of teeth. but what a night, collie’s girlfriend i also met, i remember kissing her dry brown skin on the bone of finger, before being chauffeured home; but of course, before all that, staring into the gape of being centralised by the passerby’s eyes, a lot of english pyjama beauties walked the talk getting their score of **** - if not more. but as i pointed out to the white colt - the jeans below the knees with... calvin kleine - ‘mate, you need flashy underwear to walk with your **** exposed - primani ain’t gonna cut it for the hoes.’

0

Sep 27, 2015

Sep 27, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

bench scene at collier row

me and collie took the town by storm, black man and white man drinking buddies? what a rarity. uncle didn’t join us the old ghanian, we had drunk sentimentalities, of course, but when russel the schizoid rudolf came up and told us the tottenham man city score i went into the alley and almost ****** myself prior shouting h and a into an ivory rattle of teeth. but what a night, collie’s girlfriend i also met, i remember kissing her dry brown skin on the bone of finger, before being chauffeured home; but of course, before all that, staring into the gape of being centralised by the passerby’s eyes, a lot of english pyjama beauties walked the talk getting their score of **** - if not more. but as i pointed out to the white colt - the jeans below the knees with... calvin kleine - ‘mate, you need flashy underwear to walk with your **** exposed - primani ain’t gonna cut it for the hoes.’

20

(20 minute poetry) On the ride underneath the underground to or into a wonderland 'move down inside the cars' cattle trucks without the bars a wonder under ground indeed I need a break an arm will do a leg or two I I I neatly forgot the plot it almost had me in a spin but jammed inside this travelling tomb there's hardly any room to swing a cat HaHa I remembered that was what my father used to say on a Saturday back in the day at the football match. But this is no fun No sun to see no friendly faces ******* where there should be open spaces, seats, a sea disharmony blank looks no books only mobiles trials and tribulation dirt poor ventilation Methinks this tube train stinks. Shakespeare, had he not been dead would have said? my kingdom for a horse, but of course he did say that, I wonder if he ever swung a cat. Gotta go Loads to see Tottenham court road is calling me. moving down inside the car.

0

Jun 9, 2016

Jun 9, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

oyster soup

(20 minute poetry) On the ride underneath the underground to or into a wonderland 'move down inside the cars' cattle trucks without the bars a wonder under ground indeed I need a break an arm will do a leg or two I I I neatly forgot the plot it almost had me in a spin but jammed inside this travelling tomb there's hardly any room to swing a cat HaHa I remembered that was what my father used to say on a Saturday back in the day at the football match. But this is no fun No sun to see no friendly faces ******* where there should be open spaces, seats, a sea disharmony blank looks no books only mobiles trials and tribulation dirt poor ventilation Methinks this tube train stinks. Shakespeare, had he not been dead would have said? my kingdom for a horse, but of course he did say that, I wonder if he ever swung a cat. Gotta go Loads to see Tottenham court road is calling me. moving down inside the car.

37

(20 minute poetry) Friday is a good day a day to say goodbye day to the week that went before. no tears for me happiness sets me free yes Friday is a good day. Even now when the tube train's full I can feel the pull of Saturday. and I see the gleams of weekend dreams in my fellow passengers eyes. We're all explorers on a trail underground networked by rail I fail to see a reason not to smile and that goes in the file of things I haven't seen. Short of nuclear annihilation there's nothing to do but get off this train at Tottenham Court which is a station and not a court not in Tottenham either. the best thing is the birds tweet some can't sing I hear them anyway and it's a good day Friday.

0

Mar 24, 2017

Mar 24, 2017 at 2:19 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Expect and it will be

(20 minute poetry) Friday is a good day a day to say goodbye day to the week that went before. no tears for me happiness sets me free yes Friday is a good day. Even now when the tube train's full I can feel the pull of Saturday. and I see the gleams of weekend dreams in my fellow passengers eyes. We're all explorers on a trail underground networked by rail I fail to see a reason not to smile and that goes in the file of things I haven't seen. Short of nuclear annihilation there's nothing to do but get off this train at Tottenham Court which is a station and not a court not in Tottenham either. the best thing is the birds tweet some can't sing I hear them anyway and it's a good day Friday.

37

in zee olden days of a ****** megastore on oxford st., just beside the Tottenham Court Rd. tube station... Mecca... for all those who loved music... even the classical music section, sealed, behind glass doors... and those music stations where you could listen to an album before buying it... i'm pretty sure i bought *dry **** logic*'s the darker side of nonsense... based on? the song asphalt... and godhead's album 2000 years of human error... decent times, there was actually a point to go to a major high street, and forage, while the girls were buying clothes and shoes and make-up... books? it was always amazon.com, from the 3rd party sellers, always on the discount, thomas mann's doctor faustus? had to be bought second hand... HMV? it's still there, on oxford st., but ****** had class... a rare experience... esp. the listening stations, you'd forage for an album, ask the technician to put it on, listening to it... and boom! into your pocket... i still remember Sony's mini-discs... i still remember making cassette compilations... and that strange form of labor of having to rewind, a sound as unique as the static of pre-digital television... the noise from the vacuum of the universe - apparently considered to be the sound, a remnant of the big bang... so... youtube - now? **** they take the music shops away... i guess youtube was always about listening to music before buying an physical compact disc copy... ah... this one incident bothers me... at the still (don't ask me how) existing Romford HMV... i actually had a copy of foals album holy fire in my hand... but... **** i didn't buy it! no listening station... only after having watched dr. foster (a BBC drama) did i hear foals' song my number... and this is a quasi-nostalgia: with a drag-along effect - given that... certain aspects of the 2000s had to be, re-improvised.

0

Aug 13, 2018

Aug 13, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

quasi-nostalgia

in zee olden days of a ****** megastore on oxford st., just beside the Tottenham Court Rd. tube station... Mecca... for all those who loved music... even the classical music section, sealed, behind glass doors... and those music stations where you could listen to an album before buying it... i'm pretty sure i bought *dry **** logic*'s the darker side of nonsense... based on? the song asphalt... and godhead's album 2000 years of human error... decent times, there was actually a point to go to a major high street, and forage, while the girls were buying clothes and shoes and make-up... books? it was always amazon.com, from the 3rd party sellers, always on the discount, thomas mann's doctor faustus? had to be bought second hand... HMV? it's still there, on oxford st., but ****** had class... a rare experience... esp. the listening stations, you'd forage for an album, ask the technician to put it on, listening to it... and boom! into your pocket... i still remember Sony's mini-discs... i still remember making cassette compilations... and that strange form of labor of having to rewind, a sound as unique as the static of pre-digital television... the noise from the vacuum of the universe - apparently considered to be the sound, a remnant of the big bang... so... youtube - now? **** they take the music shops away... i guess youtube was always about listening to music before buying an physical compact disc copy... ah... this one incident bothers me... at the still (don't ask me how) existing Romford HMV... i actually had a copy of foals album holy fire in my hand... but... **** i didn't buy it! no listening station... only after having watched dr. foster (a BBC drama) did i hear foals' song my number... and this is a quasi-nostalgia: with a drag-along effect - given that... certain aspects of the 2000s had to be, re-improvised.

87

It's a prerecorded message which rubs me up like some mad massage and I find there no relief. Tuesday and if I could run I'd run to somewhere it can't come, but Tuesday gets in everywhere, a toxin in the air we breathe I believe it's someone's scheme to make us sad and crush all dreams we ever had or drown us in those rushing streams of thought that one week we'd wake up and find that Tuesday ' bought the farm ' Wednesday is not as bad especially when it's over. dark down on the underground people deep in contemplation, I think of Tottenham Court and the bright new station, it's still Tuesday though.

0

Nov 21, 2017

Nov 21, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Side A

It's a prerecorded message which rubs me up like some mad massage and I find there no relief. Tuesday and if I could run I'd run to somewhere it can't come, but Tuesday gets in everywhere, a toxin in the air we breathe I believe it's someone's scheme to make us sad and crush all dreams we ever had or drown us in those rushing streams of thought that one week we'd wake up and find that Tuesday ' bought the farm ' Wednesday is not as bad especially when it's over. dark down on the underground people deep in contemplation, I think of Tottenham Court and the bright new station, it's still Tuesday though.

25